


bottoming with style

by Morning_Glory_Skyes



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Double Penetration, M/M, Non-Human Humanoid Society, Open Relationship, Secret Identity, WL and PK know of each others dalliances and approve lol, drunk fucking, look theyre not gijinkas but theyre not full bugs either okay, pk cant emotion but he wants dick lol, pk is a bottom prove me wrong, what more do you want from me i wrote 3k of porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27354043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morning_Glory_Skyes/pseuds/Morning_Glory_Skyes
Summary: PK gets dick. That's it. That's the fic.
Relationships: The Pale King/Grimm/Lurien, The Pale King/White Lady
Comments: 12
Kudos: 67





	bottoming with style

**Author's Note:**

> porn disguised as a masquerade ball because i wanted it and no one else had written it.

Out of everything that Ambrosia has done today, convincing his Keeper of the Spire that a Masquerade Ball is a better idea than just a ball is the best. A regular ball he must attend as the Pale King, forced to listen to his subjects dither and worship him.

With a masquerade, he can gossip with the best of them.

Idly waving away the Kingsmoulds, Ambrosia checks his face in the mirror. Nothing that distinctly screams Pale King. Good. He doesn't need nearly as much magic to disguise himself as his dear wife does. Thankfully a different mask, lack of crown, and tighter clothing work very well.

He does so look very nice in clothing that hugs along his frame. His white chitin compliments quite a large amount of colors, and draping it nicely so all four arms of his are in view for once is quite a welcome change.

Most people aren't even aware that the Pale King has four arms. Ambrosia plans on keeping it that way. Makes getting away from others much easier.

"We're going to be late if you keep eying yourself in the mirror," his wife says distractedly, shoving him aside so she can use her reflection to attach a brooch to her dress. Ambrosia snorts and gets out of the way. Despite the magic making her shorter than the White Lady normally should be, and looking more like an actual bug and not a sentient tree, she's still easily a solid foot taller than him.

(He really misjudged his height when he went from Wyrm to bug, dammit.)

Ambrosia rolls his eyes fondly and grabs the mask set aside for this night. "Only if you manage to finish preening yourself." He ducks the distracted swat of her hands and flips the white porcelain over. Gleaming white in a simple, plain design. The eyeholes are slanted and shaped like the curve of a flower petal. He strokes his hand across it and then presses it up against his face. A quick rush of soul makes it adhere and he blinks, feeling the touch of his hand like its his own chitin. The Maskmaker really does do wonderful work. He must remember to thank him.

Camellia swans over to his side and gives him a quick once-over. "Now, remember," she says easily, gathering her purse. Ambrosia is certain there's condoms and lube in there. "We are not the Pale King and the White Lady."

"I know, I know." Ambrosia rolls his eyes. "It's Ambrosia and Camellia. Husband and Wife looking for a fun time."

She snorts. "Did you have a carriage readied?"

"Gods, no. All of the carriages have my symbol on them." He waves his hand lazily. "I'm going to teleport us."

"I'm assuming you will land us somewhere nearby, then. If you make me walk in this dress and heels, I will cockblock you as hard as possible."

Ambrosia holds his hands up and backs up a step, but then laughs. "As close as I can get. Besides, Lurien has quite a few hidden alcoves that I can send us to." She reaches over and grasps his hand and he breathes in slow and deep. The world shifts and changes around them and when he opens them again, they're in a hall near where they'd enter the masquerade.

Camellia easily strides forward and he practically has to trot to keep up with her. "I hate how tall you are compared to me," he grouses, and she laughs at him.

"It just means you're easy to pin down and fuck."

He can't stop the squeak that escapes him and he swats at her. "Don't say that!" Ambrosia hisses, displaying their invitation to the doorman as they pass by. They're waved in without fanfare and he sweeps his gaze across the room.

It's decorated lavishly, from top to bottom, and Ambrosia hums approvingly. Camellia idly presses her fingers against his neck and Ambrosia leans against her frame. "Lurien really outdid himself, didn't he?" she muses. Ambrosia makes a noise of agreement and adjusts his mask, squawking when she swats his ass. "Stop that," he hisses, wings fluffing up.

"Oh, love, don't be so dramatic." She laughs at him, then leans in with a smirk. "Now go and get yourself some much needed dick."

Camellia swans off before Ambrosia can retaliate and he stands there for a moment, bright red and spluttering wildly.

The bar table nearby beckons him. A drink sounds really nice. Besides, Ambrosia can't flirt to save his life without some form of alcohol in his system. It's not that he's bad at it, it's that he's far too self-conscious about coming across badly.

Ambrosia picks up a drink and carefully sips at it. The magic makes the mask feel like its his own face and he parts his lips. It's a sharp wine, something bright and yet bitter. He eyes the drink carefully and then takes up a place near the wall, leaning against it.

Not a single person has caught his eyes. Not yet. Across the room he can see his dear Camellia flirting with a few other women, leaning just enough that her breasts spill forward. They're pressing against the front of her dress and she pushes her shoulders inwards. The ladies she's talking with are having a hard time keeping their gaze upwards.

Clearly flirting, and definitely succeeding. Ambrosia is going to have to pick up the pace if he doesn't want to sleep by himself tonight.

He purses his lips together and scans the room. Nothing that's interesting, honestly. While he does like his men bigger than him, though that isn't hard to find given his height, none of the people here are attractive. Certainly not to his taste, at least.

Ambrosia drains the last of the glass and turns to get a new one, idly discarding the empty one on a nearby waiter's tray. They glance at him and then nod, letting Ambrosia take a new one from them. He leans against the wall and frowns, idly sipping it. If he can't get dick tonight, at least can he get drunk.

"Well now," someone murmurs, leaning against the wall beside him. Ambrosia doesn't even glance at him. He's four glasses deep and trying to not feel rather sour at the sight of his wife successfully getting some pussy. "You certainly look like you're not having much fun."

"Bit hard to miss," he admits, frowning. "I'm by myself in a corner. Drinking."

The other laughs and idly takes his glass from him. Ambrosia frowns and looks up, then almost swallows his tongue. It's Grimm. Despite the other wearing a half-mask, the Troupe Master is very hard to miss. He smirks down at Ambrosia, lips curved upwards, and he towers over the Pale King.

Ambrosia is caught between slugging him and kissing him. Damn the bastard for being so handsome.

He snatches his glass back before the other can drink from it and downs the rest of it. "Well, if you're suggesting that you'll be my entertainment for the evening, then you'd better get started. I've yet to be amused."

Grimm barks out a laugh and smirks down at him. "Oh, you're a riot of a noble, aren't you?" He leans in and leers, red eyes glinting. "I bet you look very good on your knees."

"You horny fucker," Ambrosia hisses, shoving him back. Dammit, but why the fuck does Grimm have to be exactly his type? Half the time Grimm is at the palace for a meeting, he's flirting and riling Ambrosia up. Gods, but Ambrosia desperately needs more drinks than this to deal with him.

"Grimm, please do behave."

Grimm turns, now pouting dramatically. "Oh Lurien, must you ruin my fun?"

Ambrosia feels his breath catch in his throat. Fuck. Out of all the people who could have rescued him, why was it Lurien? Two of the people he'd definitely be willing to fuck without question. Two of the people who could recognize him easily. Dammit, but luck was not on his side.

They're currently distracted, snarking with each other and making playful, or about as playful as you can get with two people who would stab the other given half a chance, comments. Ambrosia could definitely sneak off to another area. He glances to the side and gets an eyeful of his wife and another woman in a well hidden alcove, her breasts almost bare and in the hands of the other. She's smirking at him. Victoriously.

Dammit.

Ambrosia steels himself, grabs another drink to slug down, and turns back to where Grimm and Lurien are bicker. "I am not. . . against sharing," he tells them blithely, lazily, letting his silvery eyes hood over.

The two still and stare at him for a moment. "How odd," Grimm purrs, moving to circle him hungrily. "Most nobles I know don't like to share."

"You clearly don't know of my nobles," Lurien retorts icily. His clothing is impeccable and for once, he has his wings out in full view. The mask would be more than enough to disguise him if Ambrosia wasn't well aware of the other's quirks. He could pick his Watcher out of a crowd of fakes.

Grimm saunters to Ambrosia's side and wraps an arm around his shoulder. Ambrosia eyes it like one would a viper, then brushes his arm off. "I did not say you could touch me, peasant," he snaps. Grimm cackles, the sound echoing around the room. Lurien's mask, for once, allows Ambrosia to see him rolling all three of his eyes.

"I would prefer if you didn't get handsy with my nobles, Grimm."

The Toupe Master smirks at him. "You mean without your permission?" He leans forward and smirks at Lurien, pressing Ambrosia up against his broad chest.

Ambrosia can barely see his wife smirking at him from across the room. She's got a different lady pressed against her tits and is still laughing at him. Dammit. He can't let her outplay him like this.

He leans backwards, the wine probably giving him a lot more courage than he normally would, and shoves his finger right up against Grimm's face. Ambrosia is a bit too short to really talk eye to eye, but whatever. "You seem to have quite a bit of talk for someone of no action."

Grimm's expression is perfect, all offended pride. Lurien wheezes loudly in the background. "Oh, careful there, Grimm. My nobles have a lot more teeth than you'd think." He leans in and pokes Grimm in the cheek, just below his mask.

"Watch it, you stupid butterfly," Grimm hisses, and the fluffy ruff around his throat has fluffed up in his embarrassed rage. "I'll have you know that I am perfectly capable of action."

Ambrosia moves to lean against the wall and rolls his eyes. "If you two are just going to bicker, then I'm going to get a damn drink. I wanted dick, not drama." He watches as the two snap to attention and smirks beneath his mask. Looks like he does still have it after all.

Lurien clears his throat, idly smoothing down his butterfly fluff. "Well, when you put it like that." He hums and collects three glasses from a table, tilting his head towards a staircase. "Follow me, then." Ambrosia rolls his eyes but does so, swatting Grimm away when the Troupe Master attempts to grab his ass.

They wind up in a large, plush room and Ambrosia settles onto the bed, sipping the wine. He splays himself, legs spreading slightly, and he can see the way they eye his thighs. Especially the way the fabric slips across them and leaves them bare in the light of the lamps.

Grimm slugs back his drink and slams the glass down on a table and tosses his mask aside. He starts unbuttoning his clothing and Ambrosia tries not to stare. Lurien drops his own mask onto the table, blinking all of his eyes. The Third Eye closes and he turns his gaze onto Ambrosia.

Ambrosia breathes in and pulls his mask off, the rush of soul making the disconnect feel smooth. He sets it aside and brushes his silvery hair out of his face, then slugs back the last of the wine and tosses the glass at Grimm. The Troupe Master catches it with ease and sets it aside. Ambrosia undoes the top of his shirt and leans back, letting them see part of his bare chest.

Lurien settles beside him and tilts Ambrosia's head, dragging him into a kiss. It's just enough of a distraction for Grimm to slink forward, pressing up against Ambrosia's back. He can feel how hot the troupe master is, the flaring warmth seeping through him. Grimm mouths at his throat and Ambrosia tilts his head to give him better access. Lurien pulls away from him and moves to attack the part of his throat Grimm hasn't already marked up.

Ambrosia makes a noise, low and needy, and Lurien spreads his legs with ease. He's dragged onto the butterfly's lap and Grimm moves forward, pinning Ambrosia between the two of them. A sharp gasp escapes the Pale King's throat and he whines, eyes lidding heavily.

He's trapped, caught between them. Ambrosia grinds his hips back and feels Grimm inhale sharply, breath hot against his throat. "You little slut," the Troupe Master hisses, his fingers digging into Ambrosia's thighs. Lurien laughs breathily and drags him back into a kiss. Ambrosia leans forward, feeling four pairs of hands yank at his clothing. They're distracting and stripping him.

Ambrosia would argue, but they're really good at this.

Dammit.

His hands come up and he grabs at Lurien's shirt, whining in his throat when they're batted away. Grimm laughs against his throat, and rubs at his thighs, fingers dipping against his already dripping cocks. "What a fucking noble you've got here, Lurien. So willing and ready, just for us."

Lurien snorts. One hand splays across Ambrosia's thigh and the other grabs one of his cocks, stroking it slowly. Ambrosia can't stop the way his hips jerk at their touch. Grimm and Lurien stroke him in time and he slumps back against Grimm's chest. "You bastards," he whines.

"Now, now," Grimm murmurs. "If you want us to fuck you, you're going to have to ask nicely."

Ambrosia almost snarls, but keeps his jaw shut. He knows full well that most bugs don't have teeth like his. All sharp and pointy, gleaming white. "I have more than enough soul to make myself a toy," he snaps, groaning when one hand twists just right.

"You wouldn't dare." Grimm actually sounds insulted. Ambrosia would laugh at him if he wasn't currently being played with like a well-tuned instrument.

"Then we'd better get busy," Lurien says blithely, leaning over to grab a jar of slick from a drawer. He places it onto the table and dips his fingers into it, smearing the glistening fluid between his fingers and thumb. "Lean back and spread his legs for me, Grimm."

Grimm does it with ease, hauling Ambrosia's much smaller form onto him. He spreads pale thighs and hauls him up. Lurien slides forward and presses his fingers into Ambrosia. "Fuck," the wyrm breathes, eyes hooding. He's practically drooling with anticipation; he needs this so _fucking badly_.

They stretch him open quickly, slicking up his inner walls. Grimm sucks hungrily at his throat, biting down and making Ambrosia mewl with need. Gods, but he needs them both inside of him now. "So help me," he whines, when Lurien twists his fingers again, "if you don't fuck me right now..."

He chokes on his words when Grimm strokes his cocks. "Oh, you're demanding," he purrs. "Well, you did ask." Grimm pulls him back and splays Ambrosia's thighs wider. Lurien huffs a laugh and reaches under, pressing Grimm's cock into place.

Ambrosia makes a low keening noise as Grimm presses him down, shoving his cock into him. Their hips meet and he pants heavily. Lurien watches them hungrily.

Suddenly he wants Lurien inside of him, too.

Grimm grinds their hips together and Ambrosia grabs at his hips as best he can. "No," he whines, feeling the other pause.

"No?"

"Want Lurien in me, too."

Lurien makes a noise, eyes growing wide. "I can always fuck your mouth, then have my turn when Grimm's done."  
Ambrosia shakes his head and hesitates, then shyly, like he's embarrassed, opens his mouth. "Ah," Lurien says, seeing the rows of razor sharp teeth. "That would make it difficult."

The wyrm ducks his head and Grimm chuckles. He hauls Ambrosia up a little, then beckons Lurien closer. "Come on, Watcher. He asked us so nicely, too."

Ambrosia makes a huffing noise and tilts his head back, whining softly when Lurien scoots between his thighs. He can feel Lurien pressing inside of him and the burn of the stretch is so nice. Gods, but the Watcher is only halfway into him and he's already so stuffed. "Fuck."

Grimm snorts a laugh that quickly turns into a groan as Lurien bottoms out. Ambrosia is tight around them, and the noble is making this desperately pitched keening noise. "Gods damn," he rasps, and bites at pale chitin.

Lurien barks out a rough laugh and snaps his hips upwards. Ambrosia chokes and whines, hips shuddering. His thighs are trembling, shaking, and he's sucking in quick breathes. "Please," he manages, feeling the way both cocks are grinding inside of him. Gods, but it feels so good. He loves his wife so much, but her roots really can't compare to an actual thick cock. Or two.

They're fucking him in a fairly messy rhythm, pressing up and grinding hard. Lurien has grabbed his face and dragged him into a sloppy kiss. It only slightly distracts from the way Grimm is sucking at biting at his shoulder. Ambrosia grinds down, making soft, breathy gasping noises. He arches, feeling Grimm's hands slide along his sides and hips.

Gods. Clearly he should have listened to his wife sooner. He can feel the way Grimm and Lurien are grinding into him, their hips snapping upwards and shoving their cocks as deep as they can get. Grimm wraps a hand around his dicks, pressing them together. Ambrosia whines in the back of his throat, Lurien swallowing most of the sound, and bucks up against the warmth.

"So close," he manages breathily, almost keening when Grimm bites his shoulder harder. Though there wasn't really much of a rhythm in the beginning, they're starting to fuck him roughly. Like they're chasing their own peak.

Ambrosia really hopes they both cum inside of him, fill him up to the brim.

(His wife used to tease him about that kink. She's definitely not wrong.)

He arches when Grimm slams in particularity hard, gasping at the feeling of slick burning heat filling him up. Grimm snarls, low and rough, sinking his teeth into Ambrosia's shoulder. Lurien tumbles over not moments later, his hips stilling and wings twitching with pleasure. Ambrosia's hips jerk violently and he spills across himself.

His cum practically glows in the dim light. It's dimming rapidly but. . . Fuck, he really hopes they don't ask. Ambrosia doesn't think he could talk properly in his blissful state. All he wants to do is collapse and sleep, still stuffed and full. He slumps back against Grimm and relaxes, letting his eyes slide shut lazily.

"Good night, pretty noble," Grimm purrs into his ears. "You took us so very well."

Lurien snorts but settles down beside them, Ambrosia pinned between their frames. The wyrm lounges across them.

(No, he's not purring. It's the post-coital bliss. He ignores the fact he's going to have to confess his true identity to them. That's future Ambrosia's problem.) 


End file.
